Wedding Night

Wedding Night Page 87

“Fliss, what the hell’s going on?” expostulates Richard in an undertone as soon as she’s walked away.

“Can I have a credit card to put in my wallet?” asks Noah, examining it. “Can I have an AmEx? Can I have points?”

Oh God. He knows about AmEx points at the age of seven? This is mortifying. Almost as bad as when we checked in to a hotel in Rome and, by the time I’d found change for a tip, Noah had already asked to see a different room.

I get out my iPod and hand it to Noah, who whoops with delight and slots the earphones into his ears. Then I lean toward Richard and lower my voice.

“Noah told some made-up story to the ground staff.” I bite my lip, feeling a sudden relief at sharing my worries. “Richard, he’s turned into a complete fantasist. He does it at school. He told one teacher he’d had a heart transplant and another he had a surrogate baby sister.”

“What?” Richard’s face drops.

“I know.”

“Where did he get those kind of ideas, anyway? A surrogate baby sister, for God’s sake?”

“Off a DVD they were playing in the special-needs department,” I say wryly.

“Right.” Richard digests this. “So what story did he tell this lot?” He gestures at the air hostess.

“No idea. Apart from the fact that you play a starring role as a surgeon.” I meet his eye and we suddenly both snort with laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Richard shakes his head, biting his lip.

“It’s awful.”

“Poor little guy.” Richard ruffles Noah’s head, and he looks up briefly from his iPod trance, a beatific smile on his face. “Do they think he’s doing it because of the divorce?”

My residual laughter melts away. “Probably,” I say lightly. “Or, you know, the evil career mother.”

Richard winces. “Sorry.” He pauses. “How’s that all going, anyway? Have you signed the settlement yet?”

I open my mouth to answer honestly—then stop myself. I’ve bored Richard many times over dinner about Daniel. I can see he’s bracing himself for the rant. Why did I never notice people bracing themselves before?

“Oh, fine.” I give him my new saccharine smile. “All good! Let’s not talk about it.”

“Right.” Richard looks taken aback. “Great! So … any new men on the horizon?” His voice suddenly seems to have doubled in volume, and I flinch. Before I can stop myself, I glance at Lorcan, who is sitting by the opposite window, engrossed in his laptop, and thankfully didn’t seem to hear.

“No,” I say. “Nothing. No one.”

I’m telling myself furiously not to look at Lorcan, not to even think about Lorcan. But it’s like telling yourself not to think about a rabbit. Before I can stop them, my eyes have darted to him again. This time, Richard follows my gaze.

“What?” He peers at me in astonishment. “Him?”

“Shhh.”

“Him?”

“No! I mean … yes.” I feel flustered. “Once.”

“Him?” Richard sounds mortally offended. “But he’s on the other side!”

“There aren’t sides.”

Richard is surveying Lorcan with narrowed, suspicious eyes. After a moment, Lorcan looks up. He seems startled to see us both gazing at him. My whole body floods with heat and I abruptly turn away.

“Stop it!” I hiss. “Don’t look at him!”

“You were looking at him too,” points out Richard.

“Only because you were!”

“Fliss, you seem hassled.”

“I’m not hassled,” I say with dignity. “I’m simply trying to be an adult in an adult situation— You’re looking at him again!” I jab at his arm. “Stop!”

“Who is he, exactly?”

“Ben’s oldest friend. A lawyer. Works at his company.” I shrug.

“So … is it a thing?”

“No. It’s not a thing. We just hooked up and then …”

“You unhooked.”

“Exactly.”

“He looks like a bundle of laughs,” says Richard, still surveying Lorcan critically. “I’m being sarcastic,” he adds after a pause.

“Yup.” I nod. “Got that.”

Lorcan looks up again and raises his eyebrows. The next minute he’s unbuckling his seat belt and coming over to where we’re sitting.

“Great,” I murmur. “Thanks, Richard. Hello.” I smile sweetly up at Lorcan. “Enjoying the flight?”